To her horror, Antonia heard herself say, ‘I’ve got a laptop. And I’ve done a bit of cataloguing work. I’m here for a couple of months, so if you wanted any help—’ At this point she managed to shut up in case she let it out that the cataloguing experience had been acquired by re-vamping the prison library, a project which had gone some way to saving her sanity in gaol.
But Godfrey was entranced at the offer, and said he would certainly take her up on it. How extremely kind of her. He had a party of visitors due after lunch, which would take up most of today, but perhaps Miss Weston could come back tomorrow and they could discuss it? Should they say half past three? Quire closed at four, so there were unlikely to be many visitors still around.
The laptop had been a gift from Jonathan. ‘Call it a coming-out present,’ he’d said, giving it to her after their lunch in London, and speaking in the offhand tone of a man who would be torn into pieces by wild horses galloping in different directions rather than admit to a generous action or an emotional response. Antonia had tried to accept the laptop in the spirit in which it had been given. She could not imagine what had prompted her to offer it and her own services to Godfrey Toy this morning.
It was already surprisingly comforting to see the squat, ugly cottage standing on the edge of the parkland. Antonia approached it buoyantly, because it already represented a degree of safety even with that patch of dark fear in the kitchen. But let’s not think about that. Let’s enjoy unlocking the front door and coming into the sitting room, turning up the heating against the damp autumnal day and seeing the glow of the electric fire reflected on the windowpanes. Recognizing the house’s scents–old timbers and the occasional drift of woodsmoke from the fireplace.
It was just on one o’clock. She would have some lunch, and while she ate she would read the letters and newspaper cuttings about Thomasina and Latchkill, making notes as she went along. I want to know about you, she said to Thomasina’s ghost. And I want to know about that patch of extreme fear in this cottage. I don’t know if you were anything to do with that–whether you suffered the fear or whether you caused it–but you’re a starting point. A link.
She went into the kitchen, still thinking about Thomasina, rather than about what might be invisibly in wait for her, and stopped dead in the doorway.
Raffles was composedly seated on the table, and between his paws were the remains of Godfrey Toy’s smoked salmon.
The clawing fear leapt out of the room all over again, and it was several moments before Antonia could think or reason.
Let’s take this calmly. There’s a cat on the table, and it’s eating the salmon. Nothing so very sinister about that. Dr Toy said Raffles was a well-mannered burglar, and any cat will trade its virtue and barter its soul for fish. But how did he get in?
The likeliest explanation was that Antonia must have left a door or window open, and Raffles, in the manner of his kind, had come to investigate. He was, as Godfrey Toy had said, being perfectly polite about it.
Keeping a firm hold of this probability, she checked the back door which was locked, and then systematically went round the rest of the cottage, determined not to give way to panic.
Every window was closed. Nowhere was the smallest chink through which even the most accomplished feline thief could have got in. But there must be a chink somewhere.
Although how had he opened the fridge door, removed the salmon from the foil wrapping and then closed the fridge door behind him?
CHAPTER SIX
Forrester Benevolent Trust
Friday 17th September
In attendance: Miss Thomasina Forrester, Matron Freda Prout, Reverend Skandry, Dr Daniel Glass.
Nurse Bryony Sullivan taking notes of proceedings.